You know what’s really weird? How many introverts become writers. Now, you’d think, “Oh, sure, because they sit alone in a cold garret all day and do nothing but write and avoid people,” but that’s only half the story. Maybe you start with that in mind, and it might work for you (You can even sit in a Starbuck’s in a crowd and nobody will bother you!*), but then comes the point where you realize that if that’s your goal, you have just royally screwed yourself.
Huh? You ask in justified astonishment. What’s he talking about?
What I mean is that sometime, some when, you are going to finish that story/novel/screenplay, and you have to decide what to do with it. Has it just been an excuse to hide away from the world for a year,** or were you planning to do something with it? Because if you were, then you’re going to have to let someone read it. Horrors!
I mean, here you are, with your guts spilled all over the page, and some stranger is going to read your story and know everything about you and your mother is going to recoil in terror and your friends are all going to snicker at you behind cupped hands because now they know how you sat on Santa’s lap when you were four and you were so scared you wet yourself. They’re going to know because that’s what happened to the protagonist in your story.
Well, you know what? No. First, no one is going to know that this scene was autobiographical (unless she’s your mother, and she already knows). Second, you’ve written the scene with such emotion that no one would dare snicker about that poor, frightened child. (C’mon, are you some kind of monster? It’s a kid!)
And third, no one is going to judge you because they are judging your work, not you.*** Any critique, any rejection–even any acceptance–is about the story, not the author. As an author, you have to allow the story to leave home and become its own person, just as you would a child. If you’re afraid it’s going to reflect on you personally, you’ll never release a word. But editors (who will almost always be your only point of contact because honestly, most stories don’t sell****) see dozens of stories a day of all stripes. They are not interested in judging authors; they don’t have the time. If your story does sell (hooray!), then your editor, at least, has adjudged it worthy of reading, and you should be eager for more people to see it. Writing is one of those pursuits where your words go out and seek fame and fortune, but when they find it, they have to give it all to you. How cool is that?
This is not to say that critiques may not hurt, or that rejection can’t send you into a funk. But when you’ve had a few experiences with both, they become surprisingly manageable. In fact, they become a lot more manageable than dealing with real people, until the dreaded day when someone asks you to appear on a panel at a convention…
Okay, okay, one problem at a time.
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*Well, you used to be able to do that. Now you have to sit in the middle of a socially-distanced crowd, and people will avoid you just on principle.
**Again, we’ve all been hiding anyway, so no one may notice you’ve been gone.
***Okay, if you write a story sympathetic to the Nazis, people may think you’re a Nazi, but let’s leave that consideration aside.
****Which is absolutely no reason not to try! One of the best pieces of advice I ever got was that no writer who refused to give up ever failed to get published.
Graffiti on the Walls of Time 